


the sun has come to save me

by akouos



Category: Cyberpunk 2077 (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, F/M, Fix-It, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-09
Updated: 2021-01-09
Packaged: 2021-03-12 17:55:10
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,557
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28639608
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/akouos/pseuds/akouos
Summary: In the aftermath of Mikoshi's destruction, Johnny takes his old body for a joyride and V accepts an offer from the Aldecaldos though they can't seem to shake the other's presence. Johnny shows up for a drink.
Relationships: Johnny Silverhand/Female V, Johnny Silverhand/V
Comments: 10
Kudos: 260





	the sun has come to save me

**Author's Note:**

> This is just 3.5k of me saying "my city now". Title from [Amarillo](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TdwJ0lUtN8M) by Gorillaz.

Johnny Silverhand is on her doorstep and _boy_ , if her teeny bopper self could be here ** _-_**

But she isn’t and Johnny barely looks at her when he shoves inside with not a hello but a “Where you keep your booze?” 

They both seem to realize how redundant the question is when Johnny makes a b-line for the cabinet stocked with half-finished liquor bottles and mixers. 

Vera clicks her tongue against the back of her teeth and frowns at him, shoving the door closed. She hasn’t seen him for weeks. Not since Viktor gave him the all clear. She wasn’t surprised. It seemed he was rearing to take his new...well, _old_ body out for a spin.

Still, a text to let her know he wasn’t dead in a gutter would have been nice. She had worked damn hard to get that body back for him. She’s surprised he didn’t take it and run; get back to doing what he does best **_—_** shredding in some sleazy bar for free drinks or sniffing out any way to fuck a corp over.

Vera shifts on her bare feet, hip cocked out and her arms crossed. She bites her tongue because it’s weird how much the picture of a pissed girlfriend she must be right now. 

She wanders over to where Johnny has uncorked a bottle of whiskey that’s been gathering dust in her cabinet. He pours it garishly into mismatched cups and hands her one. It’s the first time he looks at her, eyebrows raised expectantly.

“It’s like...ten in the morning,” Vera tells him, motioning toward the window aglow with sunlight.

“Like you give a shit,” he counters.

Vera ponders that for a moment and then shrugs, throwing the glass back. The whiskey burns her throat and she makes a disgusted noise, a little shiver shaking through her. Vera has never liked whiskey and regretfully his tolerance for it was not something they shared now. She catches Johnny’s crooked teasing smile before he takes the cup and bottle, swaggering over to her couch.

She wonders if he has noticed that **_—_** that they have bled into each other like ink on a soaked page. It is no coincidence that Vera has suddenly developed the ability to write with her left hand. And gained an affinity for shitty 2020s alternative rock.

Vera doesn’t bring her cup with her but follows him and sinks onto the couch with him, folding her long legs underneath her. 

“So, where have you been?” 

Johnny leans against the back of the couch, long silver arm stretching over the back and mirrors her so their bodies are turned towards each other. He takes a thoughtful sip and Vera fights the urge to roll her eyes. Always one for the dramatics. Though, it’s not like she can judge. Her annoyance with him has simpered to a warm, idle irritation. Something born more out of habit and unfortunate fondness for the asshole.

“Explorin’ the city. Seein’ what’s changed-” he begins. He points at her. “On my own terms. You were a good tour guide, V but-

“So…getting fucked up,” Vera continues with a wry smile.

Johnny laughs and sets his drink down, “Little bit of that too.”

“Why are you here, Johnny?” she finds herself asking, resting her cheek on her fist. 

“Realized we never celebrated,” he tells her, relaxing back with a satisfied grunt and aims his eyes at her. “Got our bodies, our lives. Hell, I can’t figure anything better to drink to.”

“We got lucky,” Vera tells him as both a grateful praise and a truthful warning. The cautious paranoia she has adopted has nothing to do with his influence that’s for sure.

“When’d you become so pessimistic,” Johnny scoffs. “What happened to my favorite starry-eyed little merc?”

Vera avoids his eyes, stares down at a scratch in her coffee table. Her manicured nails play with the studs in her ear. 

“You miss me?” 

Johnny’s voice comes as a surprise, thick and sticky with emotion. When she looks up, he’s staring right at her, studying her face. Vera’s chest tightens. Maybe he does feel that itch, the unfamiliar and haunting foreignness of being alone in the silence of a room. The lingering touch of someone else on the soul.

“You wish,” she teases dryly but the tightness in her throat prevents it from packing the intended punch. Vera reaches out for the bottle because suddenly that burn seems all the more appealing. It’s easier the second time around but she still can’t help the little twist her face does. He takes the bottle from her, again without comment. This time, however, his face looks serious and inquisitive.

Instead of prodding, filling the silence with words she waits patiently. It’s a hard habit to break but she’s getting better at it.

“Fuck,” Johnny grunts, leaning forward to rub the heels of his hands to his eyes. “Feel like I’m goin’ insane.”

Vera watches him **_—_** the fall of his hair in a dark curtain around his face, the curve of his back in the black t-shirt he’s wearing. The couch dips with the shift of his weight and it hits her again like it always does. She could reach out and touch him right now.

“I keep tryin’ to talk to you,” Johnny says in disbelief. “Keep forgetting I’m not in your head anymore.”

She lets out a breath of relief.

“Me too.” 

Vera’s lips curve into a tight-lipped smile, “Keep doing shit just to piss you off so you’ll talk to me.”

Johnny laughs at that. Well and truly laughs, deep in his belly. Vera isn’t sure she’s ever heard him laugh like that. It’s awfully contagious because pretty soon she is laughing with him.

“Been chewing on that fucking gum you chomp on,” Johnny tells her, snapping his ‘ganic fingers together. “Fuck what is it-”

“Cherrygasm?” Vera grins. 

“Shit, yeah,” Johnny says, shaking his head and leaning back against the couch. “Get antsy if I don’t taste that teeth-rotting shit. Got me to quit smokin’ at least.”

Vera lets out an uncharacteristic snort, “Well, shit, I started.”

“Ah, V…” Johnny begins.

She gasps and clamps her hand on his shoulder, sitting up onto her knees in excitement, “Don’t tell me _The_ Johnny Silverhand is about to lecture me on smoking right now.”

Johnny’s hand cups the back of her thigh and moves it to the other side of his waist. Vera blinks dumbly down at him, her hands held up in front of her, limp and awkward. The two stare at each other for a moment but Johnny’s chrome hand doesn’t leave her bare skin. God, he almost looks...scared shitless.

Her voice is tight and quiet when she speaks.

“What are you doing?”

“I don’t know,” he answers honestly.

Vera’s lips are on his. It’s rough, sudden and desperate as he responds in kind. A frantic kind of want starts to burn in her belly. Johnny is solid. Warm. Real. Her fingers sliding into his hair, Johnny grasping at her ass with bruising eagerness and flips her onto her back. He’s over top of her, around her. 

Her thighs spread so his slim hips can settle between them. Johnny’s hand tightens around her thigh and he grinds into her through the soft fabric of her shorts. A little sound leaves her mouth that she can’t manage to swallow. He smells like shitty motel soap and his tongue tastes like fucking bubblegum just like he said. Their frantic hands both war with her shirt for a moment, pulling in every which way as they scramble to get it off. 

Vera is exposed to the chill of her apartment, colorful tattoos spread over her heavy breasts, her stomach and the curves of her hips.

He is touching her, _touching_ with long calloused fingers and chilled chrome; and is it a surprise she whines when he pinches her nipple between his silver fingers? Her head swims as it tries to grasp onto reality. Johnny’s warm mouth latches over her other breast with the kind of messy hot licks that make her squirm. 

“Fuck,” she breathes, arching up into his mouth as he sucks greedily at her skin. Her breast, her collarbone, her stomach. Johnny nips at skin and soothes away the sting with a hot tongue. 

Vera tugs roughly at his hair enough to make him groan deep in his chest. Is this what she has been aching for? To have him inside of her again?

“Johnny,” she huffs impatiently, losing grip on the back hem of his shirt when he shifts to lick and bite at the one of the pistols on her hips. Almost angered by the interruption, he moves up onto his knees and tears his shirt off over his head. Vera’s hands grab him, pull him back down to her. She needs to feel him. The solid weight of his body, the brush of the hair on his chest over her sensitive nipples, the ragged border of his shoulder where skin meets metal. 

Johnny licks at her neck, loves roughly at her sensitive skin. Vera lets out another keen of impatience, rolling up against him as he rocks against her through their pants. Then he’s down again, trailing long tails of heat with his tongue.

She’s about to tell him to stop fucking around when he lifts her legs and yanks her shorts off in a swift motion.

“Fuck,” he groans, only giving himself a breath to gaze over her before tossing her legs over his shoulders. A happy purr of pride burns through her chest at that. Johnny buries himself between her thighs. Vera’s hand reaches overhead and grabs the edge of a velvet cushion as he covers her with his mouth and laps eagerly at her. 

A moan, a breath-

She presses him between her legs with a hand on the back of his head, tangling again in the silk strands of black hair. Her body shudders, heat having hit her like a truck, burning through her body. Johnny’s tongue drags the small amount of wetness that has gathered at her opening and licks it all over her cunt. His hands grab her hips and yanks her closer to him, her ass lifted a little into his arms. 

He lets her hips rock up against his tongue desperately but his clenched fist on her thigh that will surely bruise tells her that he normally does not allow this. Blinding pleasure aches through her all the way to her fingertips. Pretty moans and gasped whimpers offered to the room. It drowns out the news reporter babbling away on the radio.

Vera’s concerns and thoughts of past, future and present have been lost to her frantic train of thought.. It is only the two of them again. It is only Johnny between her legs flicking his talented tongue over her and pressing two warm fingers inside. Vera lets out a breathless, broken moan and bears down on them, her knuckles white as she grasps at the cushions and his hair in an effort to ground herself.

She wants to be filled, wants him, wants _more, more, more._

Her chest is tight, her body is crying for it, _begging_ for him and-

Vera’s lips only manage the first syllable of his name as her release crashes through her like a booming stroke of thunder. She moans loudly to the ceiling, her ankles locking together between Johnny’s shoulder blades. This is when he presses her down, holds her to the Earth, while she keens and groans deep in her chest for him. 

Johnny doesn’t wait till she’s finished before prying her thighs away from his head and scrambling to settle above her. Her mind is a pleasured daze as he shoves his pants down his hips just enough to pull himself from the tight pleather. It’s good he doesn’t wait because he’s _big_ when he slides into her, her cunt giving way to him in one stroke with how slick she is. Johnny lavishes his tongue over her ear, his breath hot and his hands greedy, touching and grabbing at any part of her he can reach.

Vera wraps herself around him **_—_** legs hitched up around his waist, arms around his middle. It feels as if she can’t seem to get her breath back but it’s alright because Johnny’s got her, _fuck_ he’s got her in his arms and he’s inside her. She buries her face into his neck and thinks about how much she doesn’t want to let go of him. Vera cannot let go of anyone. Cannot give up. How many times has he called her stubborn?

Johnny grinds into her; stretches her and licks at her collarbone to smooth the dull sting inside of her. It’s been a long time for her and maybe he remembers that. Memories of hers she didn’t keep too well guarded ** _—_** far too preoccupied with other parts of her psyche she didn’t want anyone to touch. 

He grunts into her skin, bruising grip still on her hip and starts to fuck her hard. He stays seated within her, content not to draw himself out of her tightness. Johnny’s thrusts are hard and quick and shallow, leaving her breathless. Vera concludes that if he stops and leaves her aching and empty she would shatter. 

Johnny starts groaning and huffing, breathing _V_ and then _Vera_ and then _baby_ and it could be the force of his pace but she swears she feels him shaking in her arms. 

He tightens, stills and grunts a slur of profanities against her neck before he relaxes against her. 

Vera starts to chase her breath, staring at the cracks in her ceiling while his weight settles on top of her. It is quiet except for their breaths and the continued drone of the radio. Vera tries to latch onto the words but she can’t seem to make sense of them at the moment, heart pounding in her ears. The two of them, sticky chests pressed together and breathing in an awkward, frantic tandem. Her fingers slide up over his shoulders and back into his hair, his breath hot and wet as it beats against her neck. 

Johnny doesn’t seem to be moving any time soon but she still keeps her arms around him, even if her legs have fallen back apart like jelly noodles.

When he finally picks his head up, her breathing has returned to normal. The edges of his hair are damp with sweat when she combs it from his face. 

“You good?” Johnny asks her. She isn’t looking in his eyes, a burn of intimacy blooming in her chest that is hard to bear.

“Yeah,” Vera nods and aches when they disentangle themselves from each other. Vera reaches down and snatches up his t-shirt, tugging it on to cover herself. Johnny instead kicks his pants off the rest of the way and sprawls naked on her couch. There is a long and tender moment of silence between them, Johnny watching her curl her legs under her, tucking herself into the curved corner of the couch. 

She reaches over the back to grab her half-empty box of smokes. Vera holds her lighter in her shaking hands and lights it with just a bit of difficulty. The burning drag feels good, settles the nerves that are bounding in her body; heart still pounding under his gaze. 

Satisfaction. A heart-rending something she still does not want to name and thinks she might not have to. Loneliness, an empty ache with him so far away **_—_** though it may just be a foot or two in reality. Guilt too. 

“I’m leaving.”

“Fuck, I know it wasn’t bad,” Johnny jokes and smirks lazily. It falls when she doesn’t chide him or smile back at him. Vera takes another shaky drag.

“Joining the Aldecaldos when they leave for Arizona. We leave in two days.”

Vera is an expert now in catching the quick strike of hurt in his features. No matter the words he slings at her she can see it and that fucking scares him. Vera knows because it scares the shit out of her too. 

“Spit it out,” Vera huffs in irritation, anxiously flicking the ashes from the cig.

“You’re fuckin’ with me,” he scoffs with a shake of his head, “Why in the fuck would you wanna live the rest of your life with tarmac rats, eatin’ sand and-”

“It’s my fucking life, Johnny,” Vera snaps angrily, forcefully flicking more embers into the ashtray she pulled into her lap. “Finally. Just mine.”

Vera laughs breathlessly and shakes her head in disbelief. 

“This city ate us alive. _We_ _are lucky to even be sitting here,_ ” Vera tells him forcefully, her finger raised in accusation. 

“Be fucking smarter next time then. You’re really going to give up? Let all of them-”

“All of who?!” Vera exclaims. “Arasaka? Millitech? Petrochem? NCPD?”

She stands, almost stumbling in her anger. The ashtray clatters onto the table. Johnny sits back and glares at her, watching her body curl in fury.

“Never thought you’d be a fucking pussy, V,” he snarls, yanking his pants back on when he stands.

“Aren’t you tired of fighting?” V breathes, staring up at him. There is a softness to her body, her voice **_—_** not of defeat but of exhaustion. “Johnny, this city _takes_. That’s all it does. It gives nothing. It took you. It took me. It took-”

_Jackie. Evelyn. Her mother-_

Vera leans over, blowing a column of smoke from the corner of her mouth and stubs out the cigarette.

“For some fucking reason we have another chance. I’m not going to waste it throwing my bloody corpse against a fucking wall like every promise this city makes isn’t a fucking _lie_.”

Johnny’s jaw is tight but he doesn’t speak. It’s how Vera knows there are no more walls he can throw up.

“A new start. It’s more than any dirtgirl from Heywood could ask for,” Vera tells him.

“Okay,” he tells her with a shrug.

“Okay?” 

“Both know you won’t listen to me anyway,” Johnny grunts, arms crossing over his chest. A flippant flick of his hand. Still, there is something in his resolution. Something bittersweet and maudlin. Her body swims with the same ache.

She kisses him again, softer this time, arms threading around his waist. It isn’t long before Johnny lifts her into his arms.

* * *

Vera’s apartment is darkened save for the warm glow of a lamp and the ever-present neon flicker outside her window. One of her neighbors is playing some music that booms through the walls, into her stomach. A bright green and yellow light dances over Johnny’s face, cuts sharp lines into his cheeks. She refuses to let him take a drag of her cigarette, the pair of them tangled in sweaty sheets on her bed.

Vera leans her cheek against the side of his chest, staring up at the ceiling. He has an arm looped around her and she can’t resist playing idly running her thumb over each of his fingers.

“Panam and I are going to say goodbye to the city. Sunset on that bridge in Westbrook. Two days.”

They both know why she’s mentioning it.

The dark of the apartment swallows their silence.

* * *

Two days later, Vera is bathed in sunset glow as she says her farewells to the city skyline. A tangle of emotions ache in her chest but the heaviness is peeling from her shoulders like a bad sunburn. Panam had told her to take a long look. She left Vera with a reassuring touch on the shoulder and an understanding Vera had only found a handful of times before.

Johnny had left her apartment that morning after without waking her. Neither of them were really equipped for goodbyes anyway. How did you say goodbye to someone who knew you like that? Vera felt untethered, light and bittersweet. Despite herself, when she closed her eyes she could still feel the ache of tears pressing forth. A few fell freely, quickly swept away by a manicured finger.

So lost in fighting back the well of emotion in her chest, Vera doesn’t hear the car until it comes roaring around the last curve in the hills. The tarmac waves with heat, the shiny silver metal reflecting sunrays into her eyes. She squints against the brightness and eyes the red racing stripe that cuts across the back half of the car.

It rumbles to a stop at the curb. Too far away, Vera decides, pushing off the half-wall she had leaned her height against. She is already taking long strides **_—_** that might have been a jog if her legs were shorter **_—_** when the driver ducks out of the car and loops around to the hood.

“Just so you know,” Johnny begins, arms crossed, leaning back against his Porsche. “I get sand in my asscrack **_once_ **and I’m leaving-”

“Johnny,” Vera huffs, pulling him down for a hard, messy kiss once she reaches him. An arm loops loosely around her waist, tugging her closer. Against his lips, she lets out a satisfied sigh, a beautiful, peaceful smile gracing her features in sharp contrast to the annoyed, fond tone that leaves her lips. “Stop talking.”

Johnny smirks lazily and straightens with a grunt.

“Know I can’t do that V.”

**Author's Note:**

> Will I maybe turn this into a multi-chapter? Who knows!


End file.
